Manifest
by DemonStripper
Summary: The Earth is a wasteland now. With rising technology, Shinigami Corporation plans to build a new world. But it is necessary to cleanse humanity to avoid tainting the new planet's delicate ecosystem. That's where the Bizarre Doll program comes in, perfecting biological flaws by studying the pure blood of the apocalypse's survivors. But things aren't always what they seem.


**Me? Writing an entire fic based on a song? It's more likely than you think! This is completely different than anything I've ever written before, so I'd love to hear everyone's opinion on it! The next chapters will be longer since this is just the intro. This is also most likely the only chapter that will be written in first person.**

**Fic song: Manifest - Starset**

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Darkness is all that I see. Sometimes I swear that I can picture vague flashes of teal behind the sealed opaque of my eyelids, lights from the pitch black sky above whispering to me in twining tongues of honey and smoke. They tell me to rise, to awaken anew, but not once did I ever heed their request. The beams of light grow brighter and they begin to scream my name, but I am not afraid of their wails and the claws seeding themselves into the furthest reaches of my mind. They keep me company and fend off the deafening silence if nothing more. My arms hurt as if they have been ravaged by towering flames, veins bursting with unused energy and the sting of something deadly-a liquid heat I could never place from the airlocked prison inside my mind. I try not to consider what it could be too often, much the same as the stabbing in my right temple every few hours, lulling me back into a tranquil state of being. A poison, surely, but a divine one at that.

Sometimes I hear a voice, familiar yet so alien, crooning sweet words and promises that one surely couldn't realistically hope to keep in this day and age. Swears to take me away to a hidden paradise where no one else could find us; Where technology was nonexistent and nature was plentiful. It burns me up inside, to hear such lies murmured in a tone so honest and mellifluous, as if he speaker himself doesn't realize that they're unachievable dreams.

But still I do not move; I am incapable of doing so with my leaden limbs and foggy thoughts. I don't know where I am, it's been years since I have. All I know is that it feels like I'm floating in mid-air, the frigidness of cold metal seeping through the thin hospital-esque gown I wore and embedding itself into my back. I am held in place by strings and bandages, moved like a broken doll beneath the unmerciful rulings of a puppeteer, preventing any escape I could have ever hope to have from this icy hell I've found myself in. Is this life? Is this death? Or perhaps something in between? A purgatory for my soul. An endless blend of lost day and eternal night

Taking pity on me from above, the shadows enshrouding me begin to coalesce and take on a halo of everglow, my pulse thrumming in my ears to the beat of the waxing and waning strikes of lightning. Noise intensifies and then returns to static with the clicking of polished shoes and the tapping of medical instruments. Pens scratch across paper and I can hear the obnoxious beeping of a heartbeat monitor and the maddening buzz of electricity, but I don't catch the panicked whispering or nurses and surgeons. It is too clinical and stiff sounding to be possessed by a hospital. It is far more quiet here than it would be in a medical care establishment; Loveless and uncaring of the body residing so helplessly in their grasp. The chilliness of the shallow air scorches my reluctant lungs with every rise and fall of my chest and the vile stench of antiseptic causes my nose to wrinkle. If I had to take my best guess, I would say this place was a morgue, and that the beating of my heart is a mere illusion from a ghost refusing to let go of his Earthly form. But how could I know for certain, when I could barely see the silhouettes of a man and a woman standing to the left of where I was stretched out nearly nude?

Flourescent bulbs rained down from the heavens that morphed into a lacklustre run of pale grey tiles, blinding me before I could so much as blink thrice to clear my hazy vision. The crisp yet lovely voice of a woman cried out in astonishment, as if she'd been waiting to see my eyes shudder open for months now, but my name was never uttered as her heels ticked closer to the horrid slab of silver I rested upon. The touch of chartreuse rubber gloves sliding over the thudding pulse emitting from the side of my aching neck without warning made me jolt weakly, but my eyes still fought to clear. However, that could have been due to the fact that only the left pupil was projecting any light and colour in this monochrome place at all. "Subject CP89, can you hear me?" I tried to speak, but my dry lips refused to part. The rest of my body was no more useful in aiding me, my hands and arms remaining immobile and bound with what looked to be not strings, but rather IVs, tethering me to the machinery surrounding me in the lifeless, white room. When I remained unresponsive, a rapid blur of short, ruby hair whooshed by before coming to a stop just inches from my face-a small flashlight following suit and stabbing painfully into my sensitive pupils. Lycoris lips pulled down into a frown when her gaze met that of my sightless eye and the small instrument she held was set aside. "I repeat, Subject CP89, can you hear me? Please nod if you can." All I could manage was a vague shake of my head, but that seemed to be enough for the woman waiting patiently at my bedside. How odd that is was only her. I could have sworn I saw a second silhouette in this room earlier... Perhaps it was a mere figment of my imagination.

"Very good..." She muttered beneath her breath, raising a chart to her face before scribbling a quick note as she spoke aloud to herself, acting as if I wasn't even here. "Subject is awake, but responses are delayed. Further tests will be required once he has fully awakened from his coma to assure that he is in stable condition." She set the paper-covered board down on a desk in the far right corner, pristine lab coat billowing around her as she swirled back to face me. "Welcome back, sir. I'm sure you have many questions regarding what has happened to you, and I would be more than happy to answer them for you in due time, but first I would like to introduce myself and ask you a few questions first, if that is okay." She waited for no reply or consent before continuing, baritone void of emotion aside from a slight lilt of politeness. "My name is Doctor Angelina Durless, but you may call me Madam Red if you prefer. I am your caretaker at present. Do you know what your name is or what has happened to you?"

The question shook me to my very core and baffled me beyond recognition. What happened to me...? All I can recall is the roar of utter silence following a bright explosion of lime green. My home, my family, my name, my memories? They were all missing, like they had never existed in the first place. But there was that voice. The deep and dulcet hum of a man whose name and face remained unseen and unspoken while I slumbering inside the whirlwind consuming my stubbornly idle form. Dread filled me to the brim, overflowing as the grim realization sank in that I am lost and utterly alone. With great force and a string of hoarse coughs, I managed to rasp out a choked answer, breaths now coming in quick and sharp pants as the flood of information, or lack thereof, overcame me in sickening waves that threatened to plunge me back into that impenetrable darkness. "No. I can't remember anything."


End file.
